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Ian told Alinor wryly. It was just that no other would think the danger of discovery worthwhile when the letter did not concern him. |
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Having given the matter some careful thought, Ian grinned wickedly and bid Alinor's man to deliver his burden to Hugh of Neville. |
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"From whom?" that gentleman asked disdainfully, not reaching a hand for the proffered packet but signing a servant to take it. |
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"From Alinor, Lady of Roselynde," the man-at-arms repeated, bowing low and humbly, "and from Ian, Lord de Vipont." |
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His accent was uncouth; his clothes were mudsplashed, salt rimed, and sweat stained; he smelled to high heaven. He knew he was offending the great lord, but his instructions had been clear, and he was obeying them. |
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Neville frowned as he turned the packet over in his hands and looked at the seal. He was not the man to do even a friend a favor if it would not benefit him, and he certainly had no intention of accepting for delivery to the king anything that would upset John's temper. It was not that John was ill-humored at this time. In fact, he was particularly cheerful, as if he anticipated some pleasant event, and, of course, the queen was breeding, at long last. Neville, however, knew the king well enough not to depend on that. Once John roused into his active stage, his mood could not be trusted from one moment to the next. |
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Ian de Vipont was known to Neville. He did not like the man, but the king did not seem to dislike him. The seal, however, was even less meaningful than the lady's name. At least he remembered there had been some talk of a Lady Alinor being recently widowed. Neville's face cleared. Doubtless the lady wished to marry again. That would mean a fat fine if the choice was her own or a prize to be given away to a loyal henchman. Fulk? Hugh Neville looked down at the packet with an instant of |
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